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Chapter Text

Dear Phil,

I hope you and young Tommy are doing well at home. I am surviving here in the trenches. The days are long, and the nights are cold. I have been keeping busy by playing cards, as we haven’t heard anything of importance yet from back home. How is everyone? I know this has not been a short war and now with the Americans involved I can only imagine how long we will be in the Trenches. Supposedly the Americans will be coming to help with our effort here in Sambre, it will be good to see some fresh faces here. I miss the English countryside but am proud to be fighting for the country I love. I wish you and Tommy the best, though I know he can be a handful at times. I will be home as soon as I can,

Wil 

Wilbur had not been there but a couple of months, and yet he was already accustomed to the smell, the mud, and the noise. The war had been hard on a lot of soldiers and Wilbur was no exception. Though shell shock had not set in just yet, Wilbur had seen the symptoms of it firsthand. The heart troubles, aches and pains, paranoia. It wasn’t pretty and usually, soldiers were discharged quickly after being diagnosed. Wilbur did not want to be one of those men. Discharged only after 3 months of service. People back home would think him a coward. On top of that, he loved his country and truly did want to stay and fight for Britain. For Wilbur being able to really do something, make an impact, was what was important to him. He wanted to be a hero. 

Spirits were not high and Wilbur hoped that maybe if some new soldiers came to their base maybe morale would be higher. People seemed to like Wilbur, as he often told stories of him and his younger brother getting into trouble around town. Just general antics to lighten the mood of dinner. Talking about Tommy and Phil really did make Wilbur miss his family, but ultimately it was worth it if he could tell an interesting enough story for someone to give him spare rations. Food was hard to come by and especially since the war had continued on for so long. 

Wilbur remembered when people said the war would be over by Christmas, well it was long after Christmas now and the war was still going strong. Wilbur had enlisted when he realized this was not going to be a short war. He remembered telling Tommy that he was going to “go off and fight for the motherland!” Tommy was less thrilled with this news and protested, but after a little coaxing Wilbur was able to convince his younger brother that it would only be for a little bit and then he would return home safe and sound. 

Time moved differently in the Trenches, days and weeks blurring together and yet in the moment seemingly going on for ages. Most of the time spent for Wilbur was done listening. Listening to what the generals were saying, other soldiers, and sometimes listening to the sounds of machine guns. Nothing really matched the level of volume battles had. 

Wilbur had already been in 2 different battles despite only being there for a couple of months. Somehow his spirits had managed to stay bright through it all. Maybe it was the feeling of relief after battle, Wilbur wasn’t in the direct line of fire as he was working the telegraph making sure communication was still available throughout the battle. Checking to make sure that they were prepared to handle the threat from the other side. As Wilbur fiddled with the telegraph, he heard the familiar clicking of the message coming through the machine. 

“Sergeant, there is news from the general,” looking up from the telegraph Wilbur spoke directly, “It’s about help from the Americans.” 

“What in specific are they saying private?” 

“The general is saying they are on their way here, to Sambre.”

“I know where we are private.” The sergeant was cold and Wilbur didn’t really like him all that much but put up with the bitterness as a form of respect. After all, he was technically higher up in the ranks than Wilbur was by a significant margin. 

“They are saying they should be here in three days sir.” Wilbur straightened up and listened in closely, “They also said the Germans are getting ready to be on the offensive.” 

“Damn, is that all?” 

“Yes, but we should have the Americans help with the battle.” 

“I don’t need your input private.”

Wilbur was silent, there really wasn’t much else he could do at this point except wait for more news. He wanted to help, to be useful, and sitting and waiting for information was not as glamourous of a job as some of the other men had. Turning over the news in his head Wilbur hoped that maybe the Americans would be able to really help with the war. Wilbur could feel that the war was almost there, almost coming to an end.  

There was a lot to do before the American’s arrived. They needed to prep camp and make sure that things were ready to go. Making their arrival as smooth as possible was going to be the biggest challenge. Wilbur in specific was eager to see new faces around camp. The other soldiers were less than thrilled with the new work they had to do, Wilbur was honestly more fond of the work they were doing now than he was with working the telegraph. It was more rewarding to see the reinforced trenches than it was to sit waiting for a new message. He recognized the importance of the communications work on a logical level, but it didn’t feel important. 

Slowly but surely the Americans did arrive to Sambre. It was difficult to get them settled as there were a lot of moving pieces with making sure that everyone was accounted for, had gear, and was briefed on the incoming threat from the Germans. The hustle was significant and all of the British soldiers felt the push to make sure that everyone felt as comfortable as possible before the soon battle. Though they didn’t know when it would happen, it was soon. They both needed to be prepared and be settled in so there wasn’t confusion in where everyone was supposed to be stationed. The battle would be bloody and with all battles, soldiers would die. 

After a day of work moving both people and supplies into the camp, it was time for rations. 

“You’ve got anything new for us Wilbur?” said a taller man.

“Actually, I have some business I need to attend to tonight. But I’m sure Charles will find a way to entertain the rest of you.” Wilbur replied.

Some of the soldiers protested, but it was in vain as Wilbur had set his mind to visit the American side of camp now that they had arrived. Wilbur knew one thing, he wanted to see some new faces. He was sure that as long as he stuck to the outskirts of camp that he wouldn’t be seen by any of the higherups. With this plan in mind, he was headed east of this side of camp. 

The trenches were always dirty and cramped. There wasn’t a lot of space to walk in and there was even less space to hide in. Wilbur decided that as long as he walked with confidence and looked like he belonged there nothing could go wrong. For a few moments, everything was going according to plan. Wilbur had made it east of the British side of camp and hadn’t been spotted.

“What are you doing here?” inquired an American soldier standing on the outskirts of their camp.

Wilbur was caught off guard by the sudden interaction, “I am just getting my rations.” 

“No, you are not, not with that posh voice you aren’t, not here at least.” 

“No offense but who are you to tell me where I should and shouldn’t be?”

“Well you are obviously not from here, you’ve got the wrong uniform and everything,” shot back the American.

Wilbur was not as prepared as he thought he was and it was showing, this American soldier clearly was pulling apart Wilbur’s story. 

“I was hoping to be able to see your side of things?” Wilbur was doing his best to both get what he wanted and appease this one soldier.

“I’m not trying to cause any trouble especially since we got here just today, but maybe this isn’t the best time to visit.” 

This American was giving Wilbur absolutely nothing to work with, he considered heading back early but ultimately decided to press his luck. “Well I understand that maybe it would be nice to have a hand in getting settled in, plus it might be nice to meet some new people.” 

“Again, We just got here and are still getting a lot of our side of camp up, as much as I would like to meet new people and talk now is not the time.”

“I can help you set up if you need it. I can be useful you know, that’s why I enlisted, I wanted to do something.”

“This might be hard to hear, but I’m just here to do my job and get out. I’m not really here to make friends.”

“Of course, he wasn’t here to make friends, it was a war after all, not the best time to be looking for friendship,”  thought Wilbur. “Well if you decided differently, I’m private Wilbur,” Wilbur held his hand out trying to offer a peace treaty for the two.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for Wilbur.”

The American did not take Wilbur’s hand nor did he offer his name. Wilbur left feeling discouraged and pissed off at the whole situation. If Wilbur himself couldn’t touch base with the Americans surely someone higher up than him had made a connection. After all, if they were going to be fighting in a war together they needed to at least get along. 

“ What an absolute prick ,” thought Wilbur. “ He didn’t even have the decency to give me his name .” Wilbur needed to cool off before going to bed. It was going to be a long day tomorrow especially since the Americans had just gotten there. 

He expected to be needed for that damn telegraph in the morning. It’s not that Wilbur hated the telegraph, it’s just that there other jobs. He wondered what that damned American soldier did. “ He probably does some lower-level grunt work job .” Wilbur was trying to imagine that the American had a worse job than he did but considering all he did was wait around for information he really couldn’t judge. 

It was night now and the air had cooled off with a light breeze. There was something off in the air and Wilbur could feel it. It felt as if the air and sky were going to collapse in on them. Even though he was supposed to be asleep, there was something pulling at his mind. 

Wilbur remembered that they had sent the runners out earlier today, but hadn’t heard anything back. Things were quiet outside almost as if the universe had paused the chaos just for a little bit. But that couldn’t last long, no this was a war and even in the quiet, there were battles being fought. The sound of gunshots came from outside Wilbur’s tent. The battle had come to them this time. The quiet was over and the chaos had begun. 

Chapter Text

Wilbur rushed out of his tent after hearing the gunshots. He needed to get to the telegraph, he was the one stationed to be on duty during active battles. As he ran, he saw everyone rapidly get to their stations. The American soldier Wilbur had seen yesterday was climbing his way up to the machine gun. “ Of course, he gets to work on the front ,” Wilbur was distracted by this and was almost trampled as more soldiers made their way to the front with guns. He quickly picked up the pace and headed west of his tent.

He and one other soldier were in the telegraph room. The battle roared outside and Wilbur could hear the firing of guns and the cannons go off. It was difficult to sit still with all the action happening outside. More people ran past the door of the telegraph room. One of them looked very young and for a moment Wilbur had been reminded of Tommy. That thought stayed with him, he couldn’t imagine his younger brother in the trenches fighting. Especially now, having seen the battle start so suddenly.

Communications were slow and usually, runners had the most dangerous and important job of getting information to and from the different camps. Wilbur regretted being so good with the telegraph, people said he had a natural gift with operating and fixing it.

More gunshots came from outside, leading Wilbur to focus more intently on the telegraph itself. He fiddled with the different side panels making sure to be careful of the machine. It was so loud outside that Wilbur wanted to drown out the noise anyway he could. The machine guns started going off, the noise reverberating through the small room where the telegraph was.

People were yelling at each other trying to talk over the noise, Willbur could barely hear them over the rest of the battle noise. He could feel the war in his body, the rumbling ground due to all the grenades, the air becoming thick with smoke, it was suffocating and disorienting. Wilbur leaned closer to the telegraph as if trying to hear better, despite the headphones being on. He had one ear off and the other on so that he could still hear what was going on outside the telegraph room. There wasn’t a lot of space for both Wilbur and the other telegrapher/runner, Henry, but they made it work.

For some reason,, this battle was getting to Wilbur more than the others. The sitting and waiting was the worst part of the whole affair. If he had something more tactile to work with he could focus on the motions of the work instead of worrying about what was happening outside, but he had the telegraph instead. Henry was playing with the pockets on his uniform just trying to keep busy, both he and Wilbur looked visibly nervous. 

A grenade went off outside the base and noise reverberated through everything. Both of the men looked up at the doorway to see if any of their superiors were outside. The view was limited, but from what Wilbur could see there were a couple of men on the ground outside the door. They were unmoving and the stillness felt out of place with the battle going strong around them. Wilbur wanted to run out there and help them, he wasn’t a medic by any means, but it felt wrong to see injured or dead men outside a safer area of the trenches. 

Their base was located to the west of the center of camp, but still close to the front of the trenches so the telegraph could pick up the signal from the wires overhead. It also aided in being close to where the runners could easily get information out to the higher-ups. Wilbur was able to see the outskirts of the battle from the doorway, even with it being a small outlook. If there were already men hurt or worse dead on the far side of things what would that mean for things closer to center. 

The machine guns rang out like bells, their sound deafening but consistent. When they needed to be reloaded the melody of the war stopped. You could still hear the harmony of the guns going off and the base of the grenades. Yet without the melody, it all felt hollow. Wilbur thought about being a part of the orchestra and yet he was stuck, stuck in the wings. It was a difficult position to be in for Wilbur as he wanted to metaphorically play the music. 

The battle continued to ring on as things got progressively more intense. More and more men fell and it was looking as if this was one of the bloodier battles. The last two Wilbur had been in nothing truly eventful had happened but this one it seemed as if a lot of men were going down. Wilbur could hear the names of men being called and then if almost on cue a thud coming from outside. 

The realization of how bad it was getting haunted Wilbur. It felt as though the noise was crawling up his skin. This time reverberating inside of himself. It took all of Wilbur’s strength to just stay in the present. Absent-mindedly he had taken out the one thing he was able to bring from home, one of Tommy's boy scout pins. He carried it in his front pocket at all times as a reminder of who he was there to protect. 

Wilbur put the pin back in his pocket and allowed himself to breathe again. He had forgotten to breathe after the noise had gotten so loud it was unbearable. Even with the battle still going strong Wilbur found a way to ground himself again and was able to focus on the telegraph again. He had the headset on with one earphone off to the side in order to hear the noise outside. 

Wilbur looked over at Henry who was white as a sheet. Henry was wringing his hands and looked visibly uncomfortable. They had been completely silent for the whole battle and Wilbur could tell that Henry was worried about needing to be the next runner. After all, most of the runners didn’t make it and this battle was realistically no different. 

Eventually, the gunshots from outside subsided and the whole world went quiet. It was an unmoving quiet, still, almost frozen in time. The stillness itself was suffocating making everyone in it hold their breath. The tension of the situation was palpable. 

Wilbur could feel his skin crawl as people slowly started to leave their positions picking up bodies as they went. It was a gory scene, blood and bodies scattered about like leaves in the fall. Though his view was obscured the snapshot of what Wilbur could see was all too accurate of the rest of what was happening in the trenches.

The sergeant walked in and asked if there had been any news, there hadn’t been. Wilbur went to talk, but the dryness in his mouth caused him to hesitate. Henry quickly jumped in, mentioning there had been no news, and the sergeant left soon after that. Wilbur had gotten up to go work on after battle duties.

After getting the trenches as clean as possible after several people had died, the soldiers went on as normally as they could. Some of the newer soldiers weren’t used to the emotional and physical toll that going through battle has on you. Wilbur was sympathetic to their situations but ultimately didn’t find it in anyone's best interest to give them advice. Instead, Wilbur decided that he needed to confront the American again and ask about the machine gun. Wilbur needed to figure out how he could convince his sergeant about letting him move to the machine gun. 

Despite the situation, Wilbur was in he had faith in the idea that he could be convincing enough to be put on the real front instead of being on the sidelines. Even there he wasn’t completely safe from all danger, but at least if he was operating the machine gun it would give him something to focus on instead of fiddling with the telegraph or his hands. 

Finally, after Wilbur had finished up his duties for the day he was able to make the trek over to the American side of the camp. He was hoping to run into the same American soldier who he had spoken to the other day. Wilbur was not the luckiest man on the Earth but today something was in his favor because the same American Wilbur had spoken to last time, who he was sure he had seen working the machine gun, was at the edge of the camp again.

“You’re back again?” the American raised his eyebrow at Wilbur in a manner that looked more annoyed than curious or questioning. 

“I was just passing through,” Wilbur said nonchalantly to the other soldier. “Were you glad to have won the last battle?”

“Considering the number of people that died? No, I’m not really excited to lose people,” the American shot back with a force that surprised Wilbur. He wasn’t expecting the American to really care all that much, but then again he had only spoken to him once.

“Those who lost their lives did not die in vain, this war is not for nothing,” Wilbur responded. “What we do here matters, we are leaving lasting impressions on history. We are doing something greater than ourselves.”

“You are naive to think that way Wilbur.” the American answered. “I am at the front of this war and what I see tells a different story. They send us all out to die for petty battles that amount to nothing. This war is not going to be won because of us, our lives don’t matter to them.”

Wilbur was not moved by these words, he was too much of a patriot to see past what this country had told him. In his eyes, he was fighting to be a hero for his family. He was fighting to protect people. “Aren’t you fighting for something, for someone? And don’t you feel a sense of pride for what you are doing? You work the machine gun on the front lines, doesn't that inspire you?” 

“I may work the machine gun, but I am simply here out of obligation. I do not hold the same sense of pride or love for my country that you do and when I fight, I fight for myself, to stay alive.”

“I have something to fight for, and a country that I love, that I want to protect from war. I am here to be a hero for my country, to fight in the name of England.”

“Hero’s die Wilbur, if you’ve got something or someone to fight for you should at least try to stay alive for them. I respect your passion, but do not be blinded by it.”

Wilbur thought about those words. He thought about Tommy and Phil, he thought about the English countryside and the house on a hill where he grew up. These images flashed through his mind as he put his hand to the pocket where he kept Tommy’s pin.

“Don’t forget this is a war, death is one wrong step away, don’t treat this as a way to gain recognition, keep your head down and try to survive,” the American advised. He started to walk away, but before he turned the corner into his own camp he mentioned offhandedly, “Just so you know, it’s Techno.”

Wilbur shouted back, “That cannot be your real name!” No response came back and Wilbur was left alone to think.

Wilbur had not gotten the information that he wanted. Instead, he had gotten a lecture from the American, or ‘Techno’. The name still didn’t feel right to Wilbur. The walk back to his side of the camp was long and it gave Wilbur time to think about what Techno had said to him. Even with the lecture, it was difficult for Wilbur to come to any other conclusion than that the war was justified. At the end of the day, if fighting, or working the telegram, meant keeping his family and his country safe, he would stay and fight. 

He had made it back to his camp and sat alone in his tent. Holding the pin in his hand he thought, “ For England. For Phil .” As he put the pin back in its pocket he thought, “ For Tommy .”

Chapter Text

Wilbur and Henry sat together in the telegraph room. Henry was whistling an old hymn that Wilbur recognized, not because he was a religious man, but because it was a hymn soldiers often sang or whistled to pass the time. He did not know the verses but knew the tune well enough to hum along with Henry. The hymn was soft and familiar in a way that it was a comfort. People often complimented Wilbur on his voice when he sang around camp, he wasn’t too proud about his voice but would show it off if he felt like it.

During the downtime of the day Techno visited the front lines, no battle was going on so he was able to clean and upkeep the machine gun. Wilbur had noticed this and made a point to walk past Techno. He tried to make himself known by whistling the hymn from earlier in the morning. Techno did not look down from the machine gun or even glance at Wilbur. To no avail whistling, Wilbur called out, “Techno, I was just passing through, what are you doing on this side of camp?”
Not looking up from his work Techno responded, “The machine guns don’t clean themselves you know. Don’t you have to take care of the telegraph?”
“It’s downtime now, I don’t have to be back to work the telegraph until after dinner. Plus Henry is competent enough to run the telegraph by himself if need be.”
“Why don’t you go talk to him instead. I need to finish up maintenance on this before another surprise battle happens.”
Wilbur furrowed his brow at Techno who was paying no attention to the younger British soldier, instead, he was cleaning rubble out of the machine gun from where the explosions from the last battle had blasted rubble and debris into the machine gun itself. “Well I won’t keep you if you don’t want to talk, but I did think about what you said and I have to say to me this war is still justified.”
“Well if you still feel like dying for a country that sends its people off to die for a pointless war don’t let me stop you.”
They said their goodbyes and parted ways. Wilbur left and headed back to his tent shortly after that.

It was a lonely time in the tent even with Henry. Primarily quiet and Henry wasn’t much company. Wilbur’s thoughts wandered, he thought of what Techno had said about heroes, about staying alive, and then he thought about Tommy. It didn’t make sense to him how Techno just fought for himself. How could someone only run on survival? Wilbur raised his chin subconsciously thinking, 'at least I have others to live and fight for.’ He would never say it, but he missed home. A part of him yearned to be by the countryside again. For things to be calm and for him to sleep in a comfortable bed.
The day came and went. Sooner gone than it began and Wilbur had convinced another soldier to give him some extra paper. It wasn’t much but it was something to keep him occupied.

“I thought I overheard you trading for something,” Techno loomed over Wilbur’s shoulder.
Wilbur whipped around a little startled, “Techno! What brings you over here?”
“Heard someone thought they were better than me at working the machine gun and had to show them who’s boss.”
“Will you show me?”
“Absolutely not, you stay in the telegraph hole.” Wilbur huffed and turned back to his paper. “I might be willing to show you how it works if you give me your paper.”
“Deal!”
“Be ready when I come by next. See you, Wilbur.” Techno left with the paper and wave. Wilbur held his excitement and headed back to his tent.

Two days went by and no sign of Techno. Small battles had been going off and on. Wilbur was lucky enough to get out of digging trenches and was able to stay by the telegraph. Small messages came in every now and then mostly about moving troops and digging instructions but nothing too interesting. Wilbur was in the tent with the one other telegraph reader besides him and Henry. This soldier was much older and was new to the telegraph, but had been posted here since his eyes had gotten worse.
“So this thing hard to learn?” said Clive.
“It's not too bad, more like learning a new language than anything else.” Wilbur was looking at the machine more than he was looking at Clive. He wasn’t too thrilled about having to teach a whole new skill to someone who he imagined would not have the easiest time with it.
Then all of a sudden a familiar voice popped in. “Not really supposed to be here, but you ready Wilbur?” Techno had a separate gun slung over his shoulder as he was standing in the doorframe.
“Now? Okay, let me grab my stuff.” Wilbur rushed to pick up his bag.
“Anything I can do to learn the telegraph?” Clive quickly asked.
“Uh, You know much about machines? Try and figure out what the parts do and if anything breaks come to get me.” With that Wilbur was out the door.

Techno meticulously showed Wilbur the machine gun as he cleaned it. Wilbur was wrapped up in the way it worked while being a bit smug that he could have figured it out on his own. He kept asking questions and Techno would answer. While Wilbur was fascinated but this machine Techno couldn’t help but feel guilty. After all, he had the best aim out of everyone at the post both English and American, and showing the wide-eyed Wilbur the machine of death felt wrong. Techno wasn’t sure Wilbur had actually killed anyone in this war yet. He was sure it would happen at some point, but it felt wrong that this excited kid could take another’s life.
Wilbur continued to ask questions about anything he could think of and Techno answered. At some point, Wilbur started asking less questions about the machine itself and more about Techno’s use of it.
“So how good of an aim are you?”
“The best you’ll ever meet.”
Wilbur looked at the machine and then at no man's land and asked “So how many have you killed?”
Techno didn’t want to answer the question that got to him, “I stopped counting after a while. Gets kinda hard when you focused on your aim.”
Wilbur thought about that. He sat with it longer than the other answers he got from Techno and then he asked, “What does it feel like to kill someone?”
“It’s hard the first time, but this is a war, death is a part of it.”

Techno wrapped up his demonstration and headed back to his camp while Wilbur checked on Clive and got the telegraph straightened out. Wilbur spent the rest of his day thinking about the front lines and how he wished he could fight there, do something tangible. Whereas Techno had thought of war as pointless, Wilbur saw it as exhilarating.